


Next Time

by omyhamstring



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Longing, M/M, Romance, Separation, somehow i suck at emotional shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 19:24:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3300791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omyhamstring/pseuds/omyhamstring
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Next time', were words that add onto each other like a list, piling, growing -  they never seem to die down. And with the way things are, these words are the only thing keeping Koushi hopeful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Time

“Next time,” were words Daichi will say to reassure Koushi.

“Next time,” like he’s reciting words from a poem he has read too many times.

Koushi doesn’t think about it, centres on the feverish kisses Daichi gives him right after, and ignores the meaning of the promise.

“Next time,” he keeps promising, like he’s waiting for the right moment, building up the tension like the spark on a bomb’s fuse, burning inch by inch.

“Next time,” he keeps reassuring, whether it’s a trip to the nearest beach, a simple journey to another city, a walk in the woods - as if they were things that take effort in doing, like they were a waste of time, like they were a waste of _their_ time.

They’re always given six hours, so they have to spend it right, spend it wisely. To lay in each other’s arms, breathing in each other, taking in every eyelash, the flecks in each other’s eyes, every pore, the redness of the lips, the saturation in each other’s eyes, the teardrops, the rushed breathing, confessions that are always digested, every hug, every kiss, every _pleasure._

“Next time,” even if Daichi recites it quietly, Koushi hears these words through the breath on the back of his neck, or through the palpable walls between them.

“Next time,” even if Daichi doesn’t say it, Koushi feels it the moment their lips detach, feels it through the skim of his lips on his shoulder.

“Next time,” even if Daichi forgets to say it, the words repeat in his head like a mantra.

He’s weak to him this way, relies on such simple words, to live the day, to live every day, _every single second_ that he’s not here, he lives through them, like a breakthrough to another level. He thinks it’s his mind’s mechanism, to assure he’s far from going crazy, that the repeated words were for practice, for the mornings he wakes up alone, for the nights he curls up around his pillow, _practice_ , for the awaited time in which Koushi will smile in his sleep instead of waking up with dried tears.

But practice isn’t any better than repetition, practice is useless. Practice makes permanent.

“Next time,” he groans out one visit, through clenched teeth, as Koushi changes the bandage for the wound on his lower back.

He fears for him more than he fears for defeat, wishing every bullet is dodged, every explosion is shielded from. If he were to choose, he will be right there with him, save his life in place of his own, he will not think twice, he will _not_ let him go.

So the night he has to return, he lies in bed with his words recurring in his mind. He realises then that they no longer felt like the net when he falls from walking on a tight rope, that the words will _always_ be just _words_.

That it can’t act as the shield, or the armour, or his warmth when he lies alongside him.

They’re _words_.

He realises then that no matter how many times he’s practiced, no matter how much it deems inadequate, the words are instilled in his brain, repeating when he needs it less, when he needs none of it, because what can his words do when he comes home and the only thing that’s left of him is a certificate for his conscription?

“Next time,” he says, as he watches Koushi approach him. Koushi can only roll his eyes, and Daichi probably thinks he’s making a mental list of all this.

And he’s right. Once he finishes, the nights he will not let him sleep is endless. Daichi will joke about it, will probably say _we have all the days ahead of us now_ , but Koushi disagrees – time has not be in his favour when Koushi needs him most. Time is what Koushi has been fighting against.

They lay huddled against each other, relying on the other’s body for warmth. When he rests his head on his chest, he traces the new bruises that had formed. They look about a week old, and Koushi advices him to press as much cold pressure as he can to it.  

Daichi laughs and indulges him about his regular contact with the fluctuating temperature, marvels about the far away scenery, and animatedly explains some of the daily mockery that happens in the trenches.

He makes it sound like a bliss, but Koushi’s heart still breaks after every sentence, in which Daichi ends with bittersweet smiles. Koushi knows Daichi is a man of strength, his mind always aware. But he’s still human, and Koushi wishes he is there for him to hold, for whenever they lose another, for whenever he’s alone at night and looking up at the stars.

Because although they’re looking at the same one, Koushi is still far away, treating other people, trying to stop the wounds that bleed for the importance of peace.

Koushi thinks he would rather it be this way.

No words will explain how he’d feel if he sees his body in ripped uniform and tarnished with blood.

The sky is clear, moon hung high in his next visit. After hours of whispering words through the night, silence settles around them. Their breaths are even as they watch each other, as they let the wind travel pass the open balcony doors.

“Let me feel your skin on mine,” he says, kissing the side of his neck, breathing in his scent.

Koushi stills, processing his tone.

He knows it’s different, this time. He feels it in his lingering touches, the way he grips onto him. He feels it in the way he moulds his body around him, like he’s the anchor, Daichi’s the ship, and the rope securing them together is thinning out, fibre after fibre.

So he doesn’t let him do anything else. Instead, he wraps his arms around him, sense of denial seeping from his pores. No, no, _no,_ he whispers continuously, tightening his grasp. His sight blurs from the build of his tears, and he tries to breathe, the air running out, his chest heaving, throat dry.

He isn’t expecting this, he doesn’t _want_ this, it’s too early, this can’t happen. So he pleads, he begs, cries out his name in panic, chokes out the consequences, because _please, don’t leave, I love you, I **love**_ _you_ isn’t enough, it’s _never_ enough.

He wraps himself around Daichi to remind him that he’s safer here, in his arms, in his touches, he will never hurt him the way bullets do, never make noise as loud as a rocket, he can’t _leave,_ and he knows he’s being selfish, he knows how much this means to him, but everything is crashing down on him, reality, weakness, his _life._

He remembers all the hours they had spent together like a slap in the face, all his kisses, his unfair ' _next times’,_ he hasn't completed one promise, he needs to  _stay,_

_Don't go._

_Please._

_I need you here with me._

_I need you here **with**_ _me._

_What's the point in living in a world you're not in?_

“My love,” Daichi’s smile is broken, incomplete, and Koushi gazes back at him, silent sobs escaping from his lips, waiting for him to say those words, to comfort him, to reassure him, as many times as he could, quietly, or even through a kiss, _come on, Daichi, say it to me,_

“Please,” he continues, and Koushi screams into his shoulder, _say it, say it, **no** ,_ “for one last time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading ya silly geese. DO TELL ME WHAT YOUR ASSES THINK. I'm so lacking in the emotional fic department uuuurghhhh.  
> But this *waves at the whole page* Just writing I wanted to post and get out of my mind.
> 
> Jaymes Young's [One Last Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3G95eeVym0) is a great song, in fact all his songs are great, I am flippin' in love with him. Anyway, that song is my muse for this, so would recommend you listen to it.


End file.
